


Of Taxies and TARDISes

by GrimRevolution



Category: Doctor Who
Genre: Gen, Implied Relationships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-25
Updated: 2013-11-25
Packaged: 2018-01-02 16:07:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 511
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1058832
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GrimRevolution/pseuds/GrimRevolution
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Someone had to give him a push in her direction. It would only make sense that it’s himself.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Of Taxies and TARDISes

A treaty already in the making, the two older Doctors wandered the archives. One hand his hands in his suit pockets, legs swinging forward slightly, body rocking as he walked, and the other almost jumping around, skipping and looking over the alien artifacts (and not so artifacts). Some, he knew were from Torchwood—the first or second or third, did it matter? It was Torchwood—others were from his own exploits. An alien skull that was partially metal from a planet that was eaten down to sand. A 1969 television. A gun with only one bullet missing. Some of them had time residue on them, others had artron energy.

“Is this what we’re doing? Is this why we’re here?”

Turning around, his coat tails whirling about him, the older doctor looked upon his younger regeneration. Really, it was odd—like looking at an old, grainy photograph of himself only with an entirely different face so the photograph image didn’t really work.

“This?”

Waving his hand behind him, the skinny man frowned. “The treaty. Is that it?”

“I think we’re playing a part in something much bigger,” Leaning down at the waist, the Doctor looked over what looked like a bunch of scrap metal crunched together and sculpted by massive hands.

“What makes you say that?”

“I say things, you say things, we say things.” Standing back up again, the older Doctor frowned. “That’s confusing.” His eyes caught the sight of something scarlet and his mouth formed in the shape of an O. “Look at those!” He was pulled back by his sleeve and looked over the desperate brown eyes of his younger self.

There were dark circles under his eyes—dark circles he remembered. A pain there, from the loss of Donna. “When I die…”

Smiling softly, the Doctor stood tall before he pulled his younger—and taller (how was that fair?)—self into a hug before pulling away, almost skipping over to the scarlet high heels. “Gorgeous,” he murmured, fingers hovering around them before he picked them up off the pedestal.

“What are those?”

“A message,” turning it over, he ran his fingers over the ancient language written on the underside with a permanent marker.

The younger Doctor snorted after reading the coordinates. “I’m no one’s taxi service.”

Her voice rose from darkness and living stone and trees upon spaceships.  _You are so wrong_.

With a short laugh, the Doctor tossed the shoes to himself--they had appaeared in his TARDIS after all, so long ago. Now he knew where they had come from. “You could always check it out. Never know what might be waiting for you on the other end.”

“‘ _Hello Sweetie_ ’? Really?”

Laughing, the Doctor walked past his younger self, grinning broadly, and shoved his hands into his pockets. “Let me tell you something, Doctor.” Spinning on his heel, coat tails whirling around his thighs, he grinned over his shoulder. “The path ahead?”

Brown eyes shone as the other man perked up—like a puppy or a kitten or some sort of wide eyed baby animal.

“ _Spoilers_.”


End file.
